The Bilingual Joker Strikes!
by ricreaper
Summary: "Why is it in Spanish? Since when does the Joker give threats in Spanish?" The threat to destroy the hospital is delivered in Spanish...What will Gordon do?


**The bilingual Joker strikes!**

**A/N: First story (My bro wrote the other one). Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Reviews please!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Dark Knight (Unfortunately)**

'Why is it in Spanish?!! Since when does the Joker give threats in Spanish?!?' said Commissioner Gordon, with his hands running through his hair and his breaths coming out as short gasps. He was at wit's end. Ever since he had been appointed commissioner, things had been going from bad to worse. The destruction of the MCU, and the escape of the Joker, and most of all Harvey Dent's current…situation. He could not afford to have Harvey to be angry at him – not now. And on top of all of this, the Joker had decided to deliver his televised messages in another freakin' language! Just as Gordon was mulling this all over in his head, the rookie police officer stepped up.

'Er – pardon me sir, it's just – just that –' He stuttered, wringing his hands, ' – how can we know if this is a threat?' Gordon stared at him incredulously.

'It's not likely that the Joker will be wishing us a happy Easter!' He yelled, his frustration peaking. The rookie seemed to shrink several inches.

'But what if- '

'Look, it doesn't matter if it's a threat or not, all I know is that this is _the Joker _we're talking about here! We need to get this translated as fast as possible!' He turned to the rest of the police force, 'All right, listen up! I need someone to find a Spanish dictionary as fast as possible! Start searching!' Immediately, the entire room was filled with a flurry of movement, as every person in the room ripped open draws, and scattered random pieces of paper in search for a dictionary. Even the rookie, still reeling from his boss telling him off, was searching every nook and cranny in the room.

After a full ten minutes of frantic searching, the rookie, again came up to the commissioner, with even less confidence than before, and said:

'Sir, we – we can't find any dictionaries around here.'

'Aargh!' Gordon cried in frustration, 'Why the hell not?'. He looked at the rookie, expecting an immediate answer, 'Well?' The rookie looked like he was about to faint.

'Um…we – er – never thought we would – that we would need one…' He shrugged. Gordon felt like pulling out his hair, and using it to throttle the small rookie. Luckily for the rookie, he restrained these homicidal urges, and said to the officers in the room:

'Alright, fine. I'm going to go down to the store, and buy a dictionary for us to use. While I'm gone, don't do _anything,_ except try and guess what the message said. OK?' The majority of the room nodded to show they understood. The rookie still looked like he was about to pass out.

The ride to the local department was tense. Gordon was constantly edgy, glancing left and right as though he would see an assassin, or as though a building would explode as he was driving by. He yelled at at least eight passing drivers, even ones who had done nothing wrong. Upon arriving at the store, he tore open his door and pelted across the parking lot to the store. Unfortunately, his journey and the majority of the swear words used on said journey were all for naught. After threatening to go against his moral code and murder a store employee, he discovered that the store did not sell Spanish dictionaries; only German ones.

'I don't need a goddamn German dictionary!' He all but yelled at the unfortunate employee as he exited the store. And so, the search for a store that did sell them began. After searching several stores, and even getting thrown out of a book shop for yelling about the lack of dictionaries, Gordon finally found a small shop tucked away on the outskirts of the city which, mercifully, sold spanish dictionaries.

Twenty minutes later, Gordon burst back into the room with several Spanish dictionaries, and wasted no time in handing them out to the very first people he saw.

'Let's get this show on the road, people! Come on, come on, let's move it!' He shouted, making wild movements with his hands. The rookie, with admiral bravery, stepped up again.

'Um, sir?' Gordon turned to the rookie,

'What now?!' He said, exasperation laced into his voice,

'We – we don't actually – actually have a recording of the message…' He trailed off, refusing to look the commissioner in the eye.

It was very lucky that Gordon had forgotten his pistol, because he could have killed the rookie, right then and there. How could they not have a recording? They were sitting here for half an hour! He'd given them instructions to try and guess what the message said! How could they do that if they didn't know what the message was?

'So why didn't you get one?!!' He all but screamed at the rookie, who cowered in fear. Someone else answered the question.

'You told us not to do anything, sir,' He said as though it were obvious. If Gordon had known who had said that, he would have thrown them out of a ten-storey building, and watched with satisfaction as he saw the man hit the ground. Fortunately, he didn't know. Instead, he took several deep, calming breaths, looked up, and said with remarkable calm,

'So go and get one'. Not one person dared to argue with him; they all instantly got up and left the room quietly, leaving Gordon alone. They came back, twenty minutes later, with an audio sample, to find Gordon in the exact same position as when they left. They decided not to speak to him, but to get on with transcribing and translating the message.

They translated it with remarkable timing: twenty minutes. Considering the ineptness they had shown so far, this was rather impressive. The rough translation was transferred from random bits of paper to a large whiteboard, where Gordon could survey the message easily.

'Okaaaay,' said Gordon, 'Here we go' He started to read the passage, moving his finger along the lines as he spoke them:

_I dreamed of a world without Batman_

_The mob made a small profit while the police closed them down, _

_One part at a time._

_And it was very boring._

_I have changed my mind_

_I do not want Mr Rees ruining things_

_But why should I have all the fun_

_Let us give someone else a try_

_If Coleman Rees is not dead in sixty minutes_

_Then I destroy a hospital_

The words took several seconds to sink into Gordon's mind, which was currently going fuzzy from all the stress. The officers around him prepared themselves for the storm. Then –

'Oh. My. God.' Gordon said, very slowly. He then grabbed the nearest person to him, who happened to be the rookie, and said in a high – pitched voice, 'How long has it been since the message was given?'

'J-j-just over an hour, s-s-sir,' stammered the rookie, checking his watch. The commissioner scrunched his eyes up, as though in pain. He then opened them, and spied an officer talking on his radio.

'You! Do you know if anything has happened? What about Rees? The hospital?' Gordon's voice clearly showed his worry and desperation.

'Y-yeah, sir,' said the officer, after a moment of collecting his thoughts, ' Apparently, some Spanish guy shot Rees – he died instantly. Rees, not the Spanish guy.' He added as though this would help.

'Dammit,' Gordon said in a quiet voice.

'Yeah, it's a shame, 'cos the Joker went and blew up Gotham General anyway' he said offhandedly. Gordon thought his heart would stop.

'Dammit!' Gordon said, in a much louder voice.

'Also, we got a call from the hospital saying that Harvey Dent went missing before the hospital exploded, as well as the officers guarding him'. The air in Gordon's lungs vanished instantaneously.

'Dammit!' Gordon yelled, his hand on his brow.

'Oh, and detectives Wurtz and Ramirez were found dead, both with what appear to be bullet wounds,' added the officer. Gordon felt like screaming until he died from lack of air.

'DAMMIT!' Gordon shouted at no-one in particular.

'Plus, your family's gone missing' the officer said, completely oblivious to his bosses clear anger and mounting frustration.

'Oh come on!' Gordon shouted exasperatedly, throwing his hands up in the air. The rookie, with a final burst of confidence on the boundaries of foolishness, stepped forward again, ignoring the signals from his colleagues not to do so.

'Sir, I was just wondering, and I was going to suggest this earlier if you weren't so busy, s-since we have all these computers, and stuff, why didn't we, well, erm… use an online dictionary?' he said, waiting for a response. And he got one.

* * *

Bruce Wayne sat bolt upright, as though he'd been given an electric shock. Alfred, his butler, who was in the room laying down a tea-tray, noticed this.

'Something wrong, Master Wayne?' His voice laced with concern,

'Nah, it's just… like, a feeling. Like someone is in mortal peril, right now.' He said, rubbing his head like he had a headache.

'Probably best to ignore it. No need to get worked up over just a feeling. It's probably nothing,' the old butler said wisely. Bruce nodded his head.

'Yeah…probably nothing,' he said as he sunk back into his armchair, the feeling of unease still hanging in the air. 

END

**A/N Review, por favor.**


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